


i'll follow you (into the dark)

by xxpaynoxx



Series: Bilbo Dies [2]
Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I like it, M/M, i'm sorry it kind of sucks but, prompted by death cab for cutie song ofc, sad bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo didn’t exactly know when it started to snow. It was all very sudden. One moment, it was cold and dark, and the next, it was warm. Bilbo slowly blinked open his eyes and saw large flakes drifting down from the sky in sheets, quickly covering the battleground in white.</p><p>(Or, when Bilbo comes to the same untimely end, but it does not seem untimely to him, since he’s in Thorin’s arms.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll follow you (into the dark)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was prompted by the song 'I Will Follow You Into the Dark' by Death Cab for Cutie. This sucked to write and I dragged my feet because it was so sad, but I eventually plucked up the courage and turned on my sad playlist and did it. I hope your heart breaks as much as mine did.

Bilbo watched as the massive white orc swung his flail, the metal spiked box throwing Thorin off his feet and onto the ice. The dwarf king let out a loud roar as his back made contact with the ice, and an ear-splitting crack shattered the ice, setting Azog on edge. He gave a loud huff as he tried to balance himself on the ice wedge, and Thorin regained his balance on his two feet. As they fought, Bilbo came to realize that Thorin was tiring. His moves became sluggish, and the orc’s blade felled on his skin more than Orcrist fell on his.

Something rose inside of Bilbo, a feeling he had never experienced with this much gusto; rage. His eyes grew dark, and his fingers tightened around Sting’s handle as he let out a yell and raced across the ice-broken lake toward Azog. Both competitors glanced in Bilbo’s direction, Thorin in relief and Azog in shock. The pale orc took this chance and smashed Thorin over the head with his elbow, sending the dwarf king into an unconscious heap. He roared, and Bilbo felt no fear in him. He leaped forward, slashing at Azog wildly. The orc continuously backed up, looking for a way away from this annoying fly with a glowing blue blade. Suddenly, he took a step too far. Azog slipped, falling right on his backside, and Bilbo saw a small opening in Azog’s armor, right over his heart. He dove his blade into it, and the orc shuddered on the blade, eyes going wide in surprise. Bilbo wrenched his blade away, and Azog pressed at his fatal wound, his eyes clouding over. He tipped backward, falling with a loud splash into the icy river.

Bilbo turned and looked at Thorin, whose gaze was fixated on him, eyes wide in surprise. A relieved smile covered his face, and Bilbo returned the smile, slowly walking forward with Azog’s blood dripping off of Sting. Thorin’s smile suddenly disappeared from his face, and he leaped up, Bilbo’s name hanging off of his lips as he watched Azog leap out of the river and run his silver blade right through Bilbo’s heart.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Bilbo looked down in surprise at the blade protruding from his chest, and shuddered, as both the pale orc and the hobbit fell into the lake. Thorin screamed. He dove into the lake, barely feeling the subzero temperatures as he desperately swam towards Bilbo’s drifting form. He wrenched the blade from his chest, trying not to look at the copious amounts of blood pouring from the wound, and swam to the surface. He broken the ice with one punch, dragging himself and the hobbit onto the ice. He managed to pick Bilbo up and stagger over to solid ground, placing him down on a soft patch of ground, holding his hand behind his head as a pillow, and brought the hobbit close to him, weeping softly.

**~~~**

Bilbo didn’t exactly know when it started to snow. It was all very sudden. One moment, it was cold and dark, and the next, it was warm. Bilbo slowly blinked open his eyes and saw large flakes drifting down from the sky in sheets, quickly covering the battleground in white. As the fat white flakes drifted down from the sky, it brought a loud silence that Bilbo did not appreciate. The only thing breaking into it was Thorin’s wrenching sobs.

Bilbo slightly turned his head, wincing at the pain it shot through his muscles. Thorin’s eyes were bloodshot from tears, and his cheeks were wet. Snowflakes laid upon his eyelashes, and it made him look otherworldly, like a snow king from a distant land from the North. Bilbo’s lips cracked into a broken smile, reaching out and brushing Thorin’s braids, fingering the silver ingots woven into them.

Thorin choked, biting back a heavy sob, and smiled through teary eyes. “Please, don’t leave me here alone,” Thorin whispered, clasping Bilbo’s childlike hand between his own. Bilbo looked at Thorin, his eyes never leaving him. “Thorin,” he coughed out, trembling at the cold that suddenly seeped into his bones. “I have to. Everything is growing dark,” he whispered, closing his eyes. Thorin shook him suddenly, driving Bilbo’s eyes to open once more.

“No! Please, just stay with me. We’ll rule together. We’ll have children together,” Thorin pleaded, his voice trembling more and more as he continued to speak. Bilbo’s eyes left Thorin’s face and looked down at his chest. “I…I took off your mithril shirt in Dale,” he whispered, and Thorin’s eyes widened. “You stupid, stupid burglar,” Thorin choked out, not able to hold his tide of tears back from his eyes any longer. Bilbo’s eyes made their way back up to Thorin’s face, smiling. “I know. I know, and I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin Oakenshield. It is more than any Baggins deserves,” Bilbo whispered, his strength weakening.

Thorin hugged Bilbo close to his chest. his tears seeping into the hobbit’s soft brown curls. “I’ll follow you into the dark, you know that? I’ll follow you and make sure you don’t get lost on your way,” Thorin whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the light leave Bilbo’s eyes. “I know you will,” Bilbo breathed, and his grip slackened on Thorin’s hand as his eyes drifted off, filled with stars that did not belong to this world. Thorin let out a long, shrill whine, brushing Bilbo’s stray curls away from his face, looking for any signs of life in his burglar’s face.

An eagle’s call echoed across the lake and the battlefield, and Thorin looked up to see eagles soaring across the white sky, bringing the sun with them. “The eagles, Bilbo. The eagles are coming,” Thorin said, pointing at the oncoming birds. But Bilbo was far, far away by now, and Thorin began to cry. “The eagles,” he kept repeating between his sobs. This was how Dwalin and Kíli found him, rocking slowly back and forth with Bilbo’s small body cradled in his arms and his head in Thorin’s lap, his eyes filled with starlight from another world.

**~~~**

Five years passed. Thorin ruled from Erebor with a kind hand, and trade began once again as it had done in legend. The dwarves of Erebor were finally home, and they defended it with an iron fist. However, everyone seemed to notice that there was something off about Thorin. It wasn’t dragon sickness, or anything of the like, but he refused to deal with anyone from the Shire, be it a Took, a Baggins, or a Brandybuck. Whispers would float through the mountain, wondering why Thorin refused to partake in trade with somewhere as prosperous as the Shire.

Balin called it heart sickness.

It was something that happened when a dwarf’s One died. Balin had seen it before; one of the dwarves’ wives died in childbirth. He took the news far worse than his king had with Bilbo, throwing things and screaming for hours in his room. This was the initial reaction, but the repercussions were worse. The dwarf actually began to fade away. His body would grow more translucent until one day, no one could find him. He became less than a shadow, haunting the dwarves of Erebor at the back of their minds. Balin was determined to make sure that Thorin’s fate did not pass as that dwarf’s had, but it was in vain.

Óin had seen Balin trying one of his techniques to keep Thorin from thinking about Ravenhill. The word had been deemed a curse, and Thorin had forbidden everyone from returning to that place except for himself. The old healer sighed as he watched Thorin walk away from Balin as if in a daze, and he noticed the gray in Thorin’s beard that had not been there a few days ago. He also noticed how Thorin’s skin looked a little odd, as if he could see right through him. He approached Balin, resting his hand on the older dwarf’s shoulder. Balin had grown ancient, his wrinkly hands resting on a golden cane he had fashioned for himself. Óin patted his shoulder, and Balin turned to him. “I don’t want him to leave us, at least not before myself. He has so much to live for,” Balin said in a crackly voice, and Óin sighed. “Balin, I’m sorry, I cannot do anything for him,” he explained.

“No one can cure a broken heart.”

**~~~**

The days grew long. Summers and winters passed across Erebor, and one by one, the original company of Thorin Oakenshield passed on. Balin was the first, from old age. Thorin stayed by the bedside of his old friend as he passed on, and not one tear was shed over his death. Óin suspected that he knew it was bound to happen, and Balin’s death was not abrupt. Next was Dori, which was a shock to everyone, especially to his two brothers. Dori had always been that glue that kept the company together, even if he was not in the spotlight. He passed not long after Balin, and Ori and Nori seemed lost. Their older brother was always there for them, and they managed without him for a while. However, the stake of death never left their hearts.

Óin and Glóin died around the same time, and Dwalin followed a few months after them. Ori was appointed as the new healer, as Óin taught him nearly all he’d known, and Gimli, Glóin’s young son, moved to Erebor with his mother as his father passed on. Fíli and Kíli were hit harder than the others by Dwalin’s death, since he was a strong dwarf and shouldn’t have succumbed to old age, in their opinion.

The secret of Thorin’s heart sickness passed into the afterlife with Balin and Óin.

Thorin was untouched by these deaths. He never shed a tear when any of his friends died, and turned a blind eye when someone would mention them. Fíli was spending more and more time with his uncle as his heir, learning everything he needed to know for the coming years as king. He had noticed something was off about Thorin. His uncle seemed like a shadow of himself before the Battle of the Five Armies, and he could tell. Thorin looked as if he was fading away. He didn’t seem invested in anything anymore, and his decrees were garbled and very relaxed, more than they would have been before.

One day, Fíli could not find Thorin. He had looked high and low for him, and he wasn’t anywhere he would normally be. Fíli searched in the kitchens, the treasury, his quarters, the mines, and everywhere he could think of. He finally opened the door to the throne room, and ran up to the throne. Thorin’s fur coat was neatly folded upon the emerald stone, with his crown placed upon it. A note was attached to it, and Fíli tore it off of the crown and ripped it open, unfolding the parchment. His eyes grew large and swelled with tears as he read the long note, written in the red ink of the king.

_Fíli,_

_I’m afraid I must leave you in charge of Erebor._

_My days have grown dark, and I feel as though I am no longer connected to this kingdom as I had been. Balin called it heart sickness. I did not believe him, but as my days grew longer, I began to understand. Bilbo Baggins’ death may not have affected you as badly as it did to me, which is good. But I am afraid I cannot live like this anymore without him. I used to believe I could, but that effort was in vain. I made a promise to him, and I intend to fulfill it. I love you and your brother dearly. Do not mourn me. Please do not let this be a burden, like I have made my suffering. I pray that you will be a better king than I ever could have been._

_Thorin_

Fíli could not believe what he was reading. He read the letter once, twice, three times, and the words sunk into the chest and dragged his heart down to his feet as he realized that Thorin really was gone. He had faded away and met an untimely end, just like the other heartbroken dwarves before him. Kíli found him standing in front of the throne, staring dumbstruck with his hands and a piece of parchment hanging limply at his side. “WHat’s wrong? Where’s Thorin?” he asked, and stopped dead as Fíli turned around with tears in his eyes, holding the parchment in his hands so tightly that it had creases all across the page.

“He’s gone, Kí,” he whispered in a broken voice, and Kíli rushed forward, catching his brother before he collapsed onto the emerald floor.

**~~~**

Thorin had never imagined death being dark.

He was surrounded by blackness as he fumbled around, whispering Bilbo’s name. Suddenly, a small hand caught his, and he looked down. A familiar face surrounded by brown curls stared up at him, a lamp in his hand and a smile upon his face. “I told you I’d follow you into the dark,” he said, and Thorin wasted no time in bringing the hobbit close to his chest in a warm embrace.

They stayed in that position until Thorin’s muscles began to ache, and he let go of Bilbo. The hobbit entwined his fingers in Thorin’s, and they began to walk towards the small circle of white light that became larger and larger as they came closer to it. Eventually, they walked through it, and all Thorin could see was white.


End file.
